When You Can't Sleep at Night
by booksteaandrainydays
Summary: Matt hasn't slept properly in weeks. Turns out, someone else isn't sleeping either.


Matt hadn't slept properly in weeks.

To be fair, it had probably been a lot longer than that since he'd slept through the entire night, but recently he'd been lucky to snag an hour at a time, much less anything allowing for real restfulness. It was for this reason that he was sitting on his leather sofa at three-thirty in the morning listening to Mick Jagger crooning about painting something black (ironic, really) from his phone's music app and going through some of the facts from the latest court case he'd taken on. When the light tap at his door sounded, he ignored it at first, dismissing it as a figment of his tired mind, until it happened again a little louder. He cocked his head, listening for a clue as to who could _possibly_ be at his apartment at this time of night, and he paused his music.

The heartbeat caught his attention first, a quick, erratic rhythm indicating whoever it was seemed to be a little nervous. Then her scent hit his nose, even through the wood of the door, a light vanilla almost reminiscent of freshly baked cupcakes. Nothing overpowering, but it nearly knocked him out of his seat to know she was standing outside his door when he'd thought she'd never speak to him again.

As the third light knock echoed through his now silent apartment, Matt was already halfway across the room, his eagerness to "see" her again getting the better of him. He slid back the deadbolt, turning the handle and swinging the door open as fast as he could, startling his visitor and interrupting what would have been the fourth knock if her sudden intake of breath and the _woosh_ of air from lowering her hand were any indication. "Hi, Karen," he said.

"Hi, Matt," she responded. For a moment neither of them said anything else, just stood silent in each other's presence. Matt was taking note of everything he could about the woman standing before him. Her heartbeat was still faster than usual, and now that he was closer, he could detect the smell of snow mixing with the vanilla he had come to associate with her. He could also sense that she was shivering a little which brought him out of his internal study of her.

"Shit." Matt stepped aside, clearing his doorway. "Sorry, Karen. It must be freezing outside. Come in." The chuckle she quietly let out warmed his heart, and one side of his mouth twitched upwards. She walked past him to where he knew his coat rack was, and he heard the faint _snick_ of the buttons on her coat popping as he closed the door. He moved behind her, taking care to shuffle his feet so she wouldn't startle, and he helped her out of the garment, hanging it for her. It was warmed from being so close to her skin, and he held it a moment longer than necessary, absorbing some of that warmth.

He winced, hoping she hadn't noticed. Hugging her coat was probably considered a creepy thing to do. He'd just...missed her was all.

"I wanted to talk to you about something." Karen was walking around his apartment with ease, as though it hadn't been months since the last time she'd been there. She now took a spot on his couch, drumming her fingers nervously against the armrest. He couldn't see her, but he could tell she was now looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to reply. Instead, he said nothing, silently nodding his head and approaching her, but sitting on the sofa across the coffee table, giving her the space he sensed she needed.

She breathed in deeply, as though steeling herself for her next words, and on her exhale an entire story flowed out of her- a story that had him clenching his fists in anger. Not anger at her, no, anger at the terrible things she was telling him had happened to her and he'd had _no idea._ He was so caught up in the tale echoing through his head he didn't detect the lack of her voice for a moment. When he did, the sound of stifled sobs hit him like a physical blow. He was out of his seat and wrapping his arms around Karen's shaking form before he could process more than one more thought: _If James Wesley were still alive, I would kill him for putting her through this._

At his touch, Karen's cries got louder even as she struggled to push him from her. Matt only held her more tightly. "No, Matt, please," she whimpered. "I'm a _murderer._ A killer! I don't deserve any God damn sympathy." It occurred to him then, why she hadn't said anything to him before, why she'd suffered by herself for so long.

All those times he'd bad mouthed Frank Castle for killing. When Foggy had said anything about a murderer not deserving to go free. Hell, back when they'd been trying to take down Wilson Fisk, they'd talked about the lack of humanity in his deeds. _Fuck._ And the entire time, Karen had sat silently, taking their words to heart.

Gently, Matt cupped her chin, tilting her face toward him, acutely aware of the fact that he'd forgotten to put his glasses back on as he felt her eyes resting on him, _through_ him. "Hey," he whispered. "You, Karen Page, are not a murderer." Her scoff made him grip her face a little more firmly in his hand as she tried to turn away from him. "You're _not._ " He lowered his head to softly press his forehead to hers, just for a second. "You're a survivor. But I know you're still going to feel bad for what you did-what he _forced_ you to choose."

A breath he hadn't even realized she was holding burst out of her, along with fresh tears, and Karen collapsed into his chest, her head resting in the crook of his neck and her arms wound their way around his shoulders. Smoothly, he adjusted their position to a more comfortable one, lifting her so she was sitting across his lap, one hand resting on her head and the other stroking reassuringly up and down her back as he murmured quietly in her ear. He twirled her long, soft hair between his fingers as he felt her sobs gradually calm.

"I just want you to know," he said, "I will always be grateful for that, Karen."

"Grateful that I killed him?" she asked hoarsely.

Matt shook his head. He felt her shift, tucking one of her arms into her chest, as though trying to make herself smaller. He reached to grasp her fingers, threading them between his own. "No. I'm sorry you were put in the position where you had to make that kind of choice." He took a breath, preparing himself for his next statement. "What I'm grateful for is that you're still here. With me. If it was a choice of you or Wesley, I am _so fucking thankful_ you chose yourself because I don't know what I would do without you in my life." _And I would choose you every single time._

His last words were silent, spoken only to himself for fear that she would be able to read the depth of emotion he was sure would have leaked into his voice. He didn't think she was _quite_ ready for that.

Yet.

And still, even though he hadn't said it aloud, he thought maybe she could feel it, if the way she clenched his fingers was proof.

They sat together, silently entwined, for what felt like hours. Matt listened as Karen's breathing evened out, heard the way the beat of her heart slowed until it was in sync with his own. She'd fallen asleep, and he was finally feeling like he could drift off as well. Carefully, he extracted his hand from hers, moving it beneath her legs to lift her again, this time standing himself and walking to his bedroom.

His sheet and blanket were still pulled back from where he'd shoved them off his body as he got out of bed the morning before. Karen didn't stir as he lay her down, but when he reached to tug covers over her, she fisted her hand in the material of his t-shirt. She sat up even as she pulled him down to sit on the bed with her. "You're staying in here tonight with me." It wasn't a question. Matt opened his mouth to protest, but she shushed him with a finger over his lips.

"It's your bed, Matt. I'm not kicking you out of your own bed." And with that, he found himself lying on his back, one arm outstretched to pillow her head as she lay on her side facing away from him while he stared sightlessly at his ceiling. For a few minutes, the only sound was the slight rustle of the sheets as they breathed, although neither of them slept. Finally, Karen turned to face him. "I can hear you over-thinking this," she told him. The bed dipped as she scooted closer, until their bodies were pressed together, and she threw an arm over his stomach even as her forehead rested against the side of his face. "I promise we can talk more in the morning. For now, just… sleep."

Instinctively, Matt's arm curled comfortably around her shoulders, his fingers brushing bare skin, and his thumb traced a caress there. A moment passed, then another, and he let his eyes drift shut. He smiled as he felt Karen tilt her head and press a soft, lingering kiss against his jaw. "G'night, Matty," she mumbled sleepily.

"Goodnight, Karen," he replied. But she was already asleep. Matt let himself relax, taking in the fragrances around her he'd been too preoccupied to notice before- the coconut of her shampoo, the fading ink from a newspaper, mint from her toothpaste. And underlying it all was just… _Karen._

Turning his head, he gently returned her kiss, brushing his lips against her hair.

"Love you," came the words sweetly whispered against his neck. Matt knew she hadn't awakened, and his heart clenched at the knowledge that she'd spoken in her sleep. He said nothing, deciding to wait until she was conscious to respond, merely kissing her again as he started drifting off into sleep.

For the first time in a long time, Matt Murdock slept peacefully, with no nightmares to haunt him. Instead, he had a promise of tomorrow with the beautiful, brave woman at his side and a single phrase repeating, even through the swirling colors of his dreams.

 _I love you, too._


End file.
